The purple zebra dances to the song of the long Moon.
Staring into the clear darkness, the beaten mule continues on its arduous journey.

Rejected by the donkey and the horse, the mule is never accepted for what it truly is.

The purple zebra is surrounded by the townspeople, captivating those foolish ones.
All the while, the mule continues up and down the mountain valleys bringing all of the town’s supplies, so that the people may survive.

Having spent many years in the desert wastes, being burned by the fires of Love…The purple zebra is free from the mistakes of the townspeople,
it is a true lover of the long Moon. It is deaf and blind to their praise and presence.

It is only natural for these people, who are lost in the clear darkness to become attracted to this beautiful flame when it arrives.

The mule was forgotten long before the purple zebra arrived… never having a place of recognition to begin with.

All the townspeople surround the purple zebra like bees around the Queen’s hive, dancing in joy and forgetfulness…

Though it may seem the mule is the forgotten, it is really those occupied people who are forgotten… and limited.

Unwavering in its efforts, the worn old mule continues to serve the people, beaten and exhausted… it never forgets to give thanks to the
One who remembers him. The One who has made him His…and His alone.

Note: This story/poem was sent by a young friend online, and is a good reminder of the two kinds of true seekers, the silent ones in the backround who do the work, and the visible ones who attract attention. Both serve a purpose. It is good to remember that for every Sufi saint that has been written about, there are many others whose names no one knows but God.
Ya Haqq!